


Back from the Front

by Memento_Mori2



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memento_Mori2/pseuds/Memento_Mori2
Summary: Jonathan has requested, and been granted leave to return home from the war. Back from one front line to another, he tries to heal London in the grips of the Spanish Flu, and more. All the while the Guard of Priwen try to protect the city from a wholly different scourge.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Bittersweet Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work ever, and I'm sorry but it's only been proof read by me so I'm sure there are loads of mistakes. I haven't written in a fictional context since middle school which has been a looong time. This fandom however inspired me to write, while I wait to consume all the other fantastic work on here. I love history so I'm trying a historically grounded take on the game. I'll see where it leads me. This is probably bad but who knows, maybe it's not and others will like it :) 
> 
> Please be kind!

_November 4th 1918 Paris_

He had gotten his demobilization papers early. Leave to return back to London due to his occupation. The second outbreak of Influenza was reason enough it seemed. It had taken him a week and a half to make it back to Paris where he boarded the first ship he could back to London.

_“I guess I should be thankful.”_ he mused.

He looked up from the bed in his cabin, where he was on the ship headed back to London. Just a few days and he'd be back home. Sighing a little he reread one of Mary’s letters he had received recently. Stains from his sister’s tears had smudged the ink a little in a couple of spots but it was still legible.

_I hope you are able to make it back to us soon. Mother has been worsening as of late. Avery tries his best to look after her but I fear that it is starting to take its toll on even him. It is getting so hard brother, to not cry when she brings up Dylan or my little boy as if they are still with us. I don’t know how much more I’ll be able to take alone without you here. I know that you said you received leave to return. I’ll meet you when you arrive. Come back safe, brother._

_Your dearest sister,_

_Mary_

Thinking back over the past few weeks he ran a hand through his hair. How many had he saved? How many had died? The echo of gunfire and screaming reverberated through his head. The last patient he had stitched up had been a young boy of no more than 19. A mortar had gone off near him and thrown shrapnel into his right side. He had lost so much blood. Reid had done his best to stem the flow suturing most of the boy’s right side up. It was a complex case. The internal bleeding had been massive at first. There had been shrapnel in lodged in his liver. The patient had needed five bottles of blood. It was touch and go, even Reid had thought the kid might not make it.

Despite it all, the kid had survived the surgery and was making a decent recovery the last time Reid was able to tour the tents. A few others had been injured by the same shrapnel from the bomb, but no one quite as severely as the kid. He had checked on them each in turn before he retired for the night.

The culmination of his research and skill on the field had earned him the rank of Captain but, that is not what drove him. Saving lives was always first and foremost his _raison d'etre_. He had been rotated off the front lines not long after. And in that reprieve, he had seen in the papers about the Flu picking up in London. He’d also seen how the war seemed to be at a turning point, perhaps even dare he say it, drawing to a close. The German forces were being pushed back and losing momentum. Maybe it was a good time to try and return home. He had requested leave citing urgent need to help with the Influenza decimating London. He was hoping that would be enough and he wouldn’t have to use any other tactics to have it approved.

Looking at his watch he checked the time. _5:15 Close to sunset_ he thought. This was his favorite time of the day. As a doctor he cherished being able to catch sunsets whenever he could. He had really had the time for the last 3 years, and if he got embroiled with the sickness plaguing London, he might not get many chances in the near future either. With that in mind he arranged his belongings before heading up to the top deck to catch so fresh air and watch the setting sun.

There was a decent breeze going, but the sky was mostly clear. It looked like the ship would make good progress. He made his way to the port side bow where it was clear for him to stand and watch as the sun set. He thought about what he would do when he returned home. He would need to find somewhere to work that would allow him to continue his research. If the news was accurate, he might try Pembroke Hospital. Situated in the East End of London it would be prime location to helping people. But first he’d return home and see to his family. Maybe he could convince Avery to take a break for his health while he looked after his mother.

The sky was awash in vibrant pinks and purples. They mixed with oranges and deep reds. It felt freeing and calming. His mother would have loved to paint it. He had stayed up there gazing even after the sun had set watching as the sky gave way to stars. He found the constellations of Pegasus and Cygnus; it took him a moment but he also sighted Draco which had be obscured by an errant cloud. Fond memories of times past.

Jonathan returned back to his room below deck and settled in for the night by reading a medical journal. Over the next two days, he kept mostly to himself. He tried to sleep and rest but the nightmares, made that difficult. He had experienced them since he had been taken off the front lines. At first, they were just jumbled disjointed representations of the horrors he had witnessed, and the lives he had tried to save. Those he could rationalize and understand. But they had taken a darker tone as he neared Paris. These terrors were abstract and ominous. Filled with blood and the sound of a pulsing heart. Muffled speech that echoed but not clear enough to decipher. They had made no logical sense.

Could it be delayed shell shock? No. It probably meant nothing, just a part of normal random dreaming he thought. He had no issues during his waking hours it must just be his body’s way of processing everything. Surely it would settle when he reached home and he could settle back into a routine. But it was getting harder to push them away when he woke up covered in sweat, pulse racing, and breathing like he had just run a marathon. Sometimes he would wake with a shout or a roar as well. It was unseemly and worrisome.

Jonathan awoke like that again on the third night of the voyage.

_“This is getting ridiculous. I could have sworn I almost could understand the voice this time. Something about disease of the land? And something about a slumbering queen? Absurd.”_

Getting up Jonathan changed into fresher clothes, it would have to last until he reached home. Which checking his watch again looked to be about another day’s journey. He checked his reflection on the washing stand. He trimmed his beard that he had been growing, and styled his hair back into the usual tidy cropped style he had kept while serving. Now that he looked more put together, he thew on his coat and made his way back to the upper deck. He hopped to find someone to ask about their current location. As he was heading up, he happened upon a passenger that had sounded like they were coughing up a lung. Worried, he checked the small supply of medicine and equipment that he had kept in his coat for moments like this. 

_“Excuse me sir you seem to be having trouble. I’m a doctor and I would like to help. My name is Dr. Jonathan Reid”_

_“Evening doctor I swear it’s not the flu ‘onest. I checked with a doctor before they would let me board. He said it was bron something…. Said I should wait for it to pass before traveling but I wanted to return back ‘ome as soon as I could. I couln’ afford his fancy medicine so he said to get fresh air when I could and to rest.”_

_“I see, would you mind if I examined you to be sure?”_

_“I suppose so not like it’d hurt me at any rate. “_

As Jonathan pulled out a stethoscope, he questioned the man.

_“Have you been running a fever or anything of that sort?”_

_“No.”_

_“This coughing how long has it been going on?”_

_“A week or so. I had a cold before that though.”_

_“Very good, are you coughing up anything that looks like blood?”_

_“No, just this God-awful mucus. Can’t seem to catch my breath. And I’ve felt exhausted for as bout as long as this cough.”_

_“If you would allow me, I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs to see if it’s nothing more serious.”_

_“Sure, go ahead.”_

Jonathan preceded to check his heart and his lungs. He then listened to his breathing to make sure. All the signs pointed towards bronchitis and not the flu or pneumonia. Placing the stethoscope back in a pocket he said,

_“Yes, it looks very much like a case of Bronchitis. I can give you something for the cough that should be able to help you sleep and get you through the next week. That doctor was right, it needs to run its course.”_

_“I don’t ‘ave much money with me. I sent most of it back home with me other ‘alf and the kids.”_

_“That is okay, my help is freely given,”_ Jonathan stated handing over a vial of medicine labeled in neat flowing script with directions on the side.

_“Take this before bed and it should help you to better sleep through the night. Drink plenty of fluids such as water and broth, and as long as you don’t have worsening symptoms you should make it through in one piece. Be careful when taking the medicine as it will make you drowsy.”_

_“Thank you doctor.”_

_“It's no trouble at all sir, get well soon.”_

As Reid went to leave and make his way topside, he turned and asked,

_“Do you happen to know where we are currently, or seen any crew pass by recently?”_

_“No, I ‘adn’t but last I overheard in passing a while ago is that we were nearing the Strait of Dover. I guess we’re either passing it by now, or ‘ave made it past, because I ‘aven’t overheard anything else or seen any trouble.”_

_“Thank you for informing me, and take care.”_

_“You as well, doctor Reid.”_

Jonathan made it to the deck and fresh air. It already pretty bright out, probably late morning, He could make out what looked like the coastline to his right. He knew the ship had planned on stopping in Calais and taking on more passengers before making the final stretch to London. They must be nearing it soon he thought.

After walking around a bit and stretching his legs he made his way back to his cabin and settled back in for a while before lunch was being served.

The ship docked in Calais around 3 that afternoon taking on more than the she was letting off. Once everything was in order the ship made for London under fair skies. Jonathan spent most of it reading in the cabin, coming out for the last meal of the day or the occasional round to see if anyone out in public needed a doctor’s help.

He retired hoping to get some rest before they docked in London. It looked like they would be arriving early at this rate possibly in the middle of the night. Mary had said she would be waiting but she might miss him if he had to dock at night. He had better sleep so he’d be ready for her enthusiasm at his return home. Maybe he could surprise his family by being a touch early. It was hard to sleep though when he immediately fell into the nightmare shrouded in blood.

He thought he heard a cackle of a female in the far distance, yet it was that increasing sound of a pulsing heart and what sounded like a male’s voice echoing that he heard most prominently.

**_“Will you rise to be my champion in this?”_ **

“What? What’s going on? Who’s there?”

**_“I believe you are my best hope in enacting my will.”_ **

It sounded like the voice was only talking to himself.

**_“Yes, you will do._ ”**

All of the sudden Jonathan came to consciousness shouting in fear fueled anger. This was getting old and making less sense each day. Checking his watch, it said eight. It felt like the ship was slowing. Had they reached London?

He got up and put himself back together, ever the gentleman. Once he was done grooming, he packed his belongings, and went to check on the status of the ship. Poking his head out he saw a couple of people milling about. He asked them the ship was docking.

_“Aye, won’t be long now someone stated.”_

Reid returned to his cabin and awaited the call to disembark. At last. Finally! Back in London after all this time. Mary stated that she would be there to greet him every day until his arrival but, she couldn’t have been at the docks this time of night with the quarantines going up everywhere. No she would be at home sound in bed hopefully.

Jonathan hoped he wouldn’t have any troubles making his way home after the voyage. He checked his pockets and found that his pistol was still accessible should he need it. You could never be too careful this late at night. He started making his way towards the West End. Taking the most direct path wasn’t the safest so he decided to go where there was enough light and cover to make his way. 

He hadn’t made it far when he heard someone or something. He asked who was there while trying to get to his revolver. Suddenly he was grabbed from behind and his head was forcefully yanked to the side. He felt something sink its teeth into his neck.

All he felt after this was unbearable pain as he tried to struggle against the grip of whatever had him in its hold. He was slipping into unconsciousness; he’d lost too much blood. The pain was all encompassing.

_“No. No…. I still have so much to accomplish!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical tidbit: The sun set at 5:28 on November 4, 1918


	2. Duty Roster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day in the life of Geoffrey McCullum and his guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have gotten caught up in my ocs. Creating Priwen members is a lot of fun I've found. Please forgive me, I'll try to stay on track with plot.

_Priwen Headquarters November 3rd 1918_

Geoffrey McCullum read through the scattered mess of dispatches and reports from his captains and scouts in London. As Priwen’s leader in London he was meticulous about staying updated on the current goings on and planning ahead. While there had been occasional stirrings outside of London that may require investigating in the future, it was the worrying increase of activity this past month that had the leader of the hunters in a mood. There had been increased activity in all boroughs of London, especially in the poorer districts.

Most of the recent reports were from Just this past week alone. It seemed the grotesque skals were on the rise as of late, though other leeches had been spotted with some frequency as well. On top of this a fucking epidemic was tearing through London’s population. Too many bodies were found disemboweled or their throats ripped out, in alleyways and abandoned buildings. These newer skals were more ferocious and deadly than previous sightings. They were seeing an increase in injured guardsmen as well.

Priwen’s resident doctor, Alistair Hawthorne, had indicated that he was seeing increased spread of the flu in the areas surrounding their headquarters in Whitechapel. It seemed to coincide with these newer beasts. A couple of the rookies that had taken ill and had been quarantined following these attacks, succumbed to their injuries just a few nights ago. He and Rhiannon had done their best. It was thanks to their hard work and the rest of the infirmary’s staff that it had not spread. Leeches were hard enough to fight as it was.

Geoffrey McCullum scowled, “ _There has to be more to this. I feel it in my gut. They must be tied together somehow. What am I missing?”_

He would need to ramp up recruitment again. That also meant he’d have figure out other avenues for income generation. For most people Priwen looked like little more than another gang of thugs. In actuality it was a bustling enterprise of some 150 or so members all organized by Geoffrey with some help from his second Nikolai Volkov and his other top advisor Declcán O’Connell. The Guards mission was to eradicate all leeches and keep London safe. McCullum was a born strategist, or so former leader Carl Eldritch had said, one night after getting shit faced drunk after a hunt. Right now, all Geoffrey felt was an oncoming headache.

He would definitely need increased patrols around Whitechapel Street and the Old Road. He should also send extra men to the warehouses around the docks. At this rate he might also need to look for a couple of medics if possible. While they weren’t overwhelmed with their current number of staff in the infirmary, it was only a matter of time with the way things had been going. Hopefully the next round of recruits would have someone with that skill set. He’d go speak with the trainers after he was done finalizing the rotas with his second and advisor.

Peering back down at the reports he glanced up at the window to his left. The moon was practically nonexistent in the sky tonight. The most dangerous time to hunt was around and during the new moon. He would have to make sure the patrols had plenty of torch bearers and increase group size for safety. Job was already dangerous enough.

A pounding round of knocks sounded at the leader’s door. _“Come in already an, quit yer bang’n, my heads already pounding enough as it is.”_ McCullum yelled irritatingly.

Geoffrey’s second, walked in as he said, _“Sorry boss, but you’ve been in here for too long. Dinner is served, come.”_

_“Not now Nikolai I’ve got to get the patrol schedules sorted out for the next week.”_

“ _You can worry about that after food, I will help… But first food!”_

“What’s on the menu tonight? If you say bean soup again, I’ll throw something at yeh!”

_“Mutton stew and potatoes. And fresh pot of coffee made by my zhena.”_

_“Nataliya made the coffee? Do we have any milk still?_

_“Da."_

_“Fine, I eat if you can hunt down Declcán. We need to figure out the rotations for the next week.”_

Sighing, the Leader of Priwen made his way to the mess to grab his share of the food. Not feeling up to chatting he went back to his office to eat, hopefully in peace. An unread report from East End’s captain, Elain stated that she had been able to recruit one of Pembroke’s nurses as a scout for her borough. She was now receiving updates about the state of the new influenza at the hospital. _“That’s good,”_ he thought one more set of eyes for that Stole snake, Swansea. Geoffrey swore there was something off about the man. Just as he went to down his coffee, Declcán barged in with Nikolai close behind. Sighing and setting down his drink, Geoffrey motioned for Nikolai and Declcán to sit on the other side of his cluttered desk. He spread the map of London out and said,

“A’right boys let’s get down to business. How are the boroughs looking currently?”

_“Pretty shit if I’m honest,”_ Declcán said humorously. _“Lost seven last night at the docks alone. Albert said he feels like there is something worse than skals roaming out there.”_

Nikolai leaned in and added, _“I suggest we send some of Abbott’s seasoned men to help. West End is quiet with fancy leeches. Better to send bulk of our recruits where it is safest.”_

_“Agreed, but we will have to send some greenhorns to the docks regardless after the losses. How is Whitechapel doing?”_ Geoffrey stated then took a swig of his drink.

_“Walsh returned not too long ago. Said that there was some heavy fighting near that black-market dispensary over on Whitechapel Street. They lost a team lead a night or two ago by the canals.”_ O’Connell scratched his bare chin and said, _“I think her name was Amanda if I’m not mistaken. I think they lost a couple of others but overall, it could have been worse.”_

McCullum scowled, _“Can’t be avoided, but we’ll make sure to hold a wake for her and the rest we lost recently. I also got finished reading Elain’s dispatch. The East End has been pretty calm this past week. She also has a scout working from within the hospital now._

Nikolai smiled, _“This is good news da? We should send most to docks and some to Walsh.”_

_“Yes, and the rest of the rookies can go to the West and East ends for now.”_ McCullum got up from his desk and drained the rest of his now lukewarm at best, coffee. _I’ll go speak to the trainers and see how the rookies are shaping up.”_

The hunter made his way down to the first floor and out into the training yard. He thought he spotted around 20 new heads in various groupings. Some were not even full grown, though he did see some that looked to be veterans from the war. He walked over to Kathryn by the crossbowmen. They were practicing firing incendiary bolts. Their trainer was an auburn-haired woman with a booming voice. She looked young if not for a couple of facial scars on the left side of her face where a leech had gotten to her with its claws. As she paced back and forth amongst the firing line she barked,

_“When fighting leeches, you aim for the head or their heart. Anything less will just enrage them. Range is your best friend, but don’t lose sight of your target lest, you find yourself in their jaws. Most of the time you will be fighting the uglier ones. We call them skals and they have no brains and are predictable to a fault. These flaming bolts will not only cause them lasting harm, they will also keep you safer.”_

_“And when all else fails,_ McCullum said stepping in looming over them with his height, _“You stake ‘em in their soulless dead hearts. Never leave base without one.”_

Kathryn turned and smiled at Geoffrey, _“Right you are sir. Oi you lot this is McCullum your new boss. What he says goes. Now carry on and don’t make me look bad!”_

_“How are they doing? Will they be ready for deployment soon?”_

_“Most of my bunch will be ready within a day or two. I do have a couple that need another week of training still. You should talk to Emrys and Angela though. I overheard they have a couple of interesting recruits.”_

_“Aye I’ll do that. Take care Kathryn, train them well.”_

_“I will sir, Priwen shall Prevail!_

Geoffrey made his way over to the brawlers sparing under the watchful eyes of Emrys O’Quinn. At six foot two he towered over most of the guard, and had the strength of a bear. As burly as he looked, around his adoptive daughter he turned into the biggest softy at the base. Only McCullum stood taller by a couple of inches.

Emrys bellowed to the sparing pairs, _“Put your backs into it and always make sure to wear an armguard. It may one day be the only thing between you and a set of mangy fangs. And keep track of your bullets you don’t get an infinite supply of them. If you run out you can bet your arses you’ll wind up as a leech’s next meal.”_

He chuckled as he waved McCullum over. _“Over ‘ere boss!”_

_“Kathryn said I should come talk to ya. Said you had an interesting rookie?”_

_“That I do, his name’s Henry Wolfe came to us after he returned home from the war to find his new wife being eaten by a skal. Beat it to a bloody pulp by the time a patrol found him. Poor sod” he spat into the dirt. “Mean son of a bitch almost gave me a run for my money an hour ago.”_

_“That who gave you a shinner?”_ Geoffrey laughed.

_“Fuck you, I’m still better looking than your ugly mug… sir,”_ Emrys smirked.

Priwen’s leader just raised a brow. _“If you think he’s ready, we could use him on the docks this week.”_

_“I’d say he’s more than ready to bash some leech skulls in.”_

_“Excellent I’m going finish talking to Angela before I turn in for the night.”_

The brawler shouted, _“Have fun boss,”_ before turning and barking more instructions at the group of trainees.

McCullum grunted and moved to where Angela was sitting outside the munitions stockpile Priwen kept for gunners. She was cleaning her favored rifle a Lee-Enfield bolt action she had gotten from her pa after he died. Angela shared the duty of instructing the gunners and anyone that need firearm training with Nikolai. Combined their knowledge covered just about anything the guard had procured for the armory.

Seeing as she was lost in the muscle memory of her task, Geoffrey loudly cleared his throat. Angela was startled slightly by the noise but quickly turned back to her rifle after acknowledging her boss. _“Are you here about Derek Tanner sir?”_

_“That the recruit Kathryn mentioned showed potential?”_

_“Aye, that’s right”_

_“He a particularly good shot then?”_

_“He’s not bad with a pistol. The squad that came across him, said they watched him take down a skal with a shot to the head at 50 paces. They found him trying to save a couple of other blokes over near the Docks. One of them is talking to Mathias about helping out his Chaplains even. The other guy didn’t make it though. His neck was ripped by the time Derek had stumbled upon them.”_

Geoffrey hearing the hesitation in Angela’s voice he said, _“But?”_

_“He would honestly be better assisting in a more non-combative role,”_ she said.

_“Why would you suggest that? Seems to me he’s a decent enough shot. Better than average even,”_ her boss said.

Angela nodded, _“Yeah but he’s actually had some medical training. He said he’s not a surgeon by any means but that he’s decent enough for normal day to day medical needs. He’s has more experience than a medic at least. Doc could really use the help, I think.”_

_“Did you say anything to him about it?”_

_“Yes, I went ahead and introduced him to Hawthorne and Abbott. He seemed relieved to be able to assist in the infirmary, rather than take on a more combative role.”_

_“Sounds good I trust your judgment Angela. I was just thinking we needed to expand our staff in the infirmary. Do you happen to know if we got any more holy men for Mathias?”_

_“I don’t think there was anyone else in this last round of recruits.”_

_“Ah well there’s always next time. I’m going to finalize the roster for the week before I turn in for the night. I’ll have it posted for you and the other captains at first light.”_

_“Not going to hunt tonight sir?”_

_“No, I’ve had enough of a headache going through all the reports this week.”_ Geoffrey let out a frustrated sigh, _“They always take up too much of my time.”_

_“That or you’re just putting it off because you don’t like paperwork,”_ she teased.

_“Mind your own business Lovegood,”_ he grumbled.

_“Will do boss,”_ she chuckled.

Geoffrey just sighed and went back inside. He made his way back up to the second story of the main building. His office was closer to the stairs but at the end of the hall was the room he had claimed as his own.

It was nicely sized considering the cramped feeling Whitechapel trappings usually showcased. He had a decent sized bed in the far corner. He had a partitioned bathroom in the opposite corner. A fireplace took up a portion of one of the interior walls. Any extra space was relegated to his personal store of books and his small private arsenal.

Setting down his sword and crossbow closely by the bed he started dressing down for the night. He carried out his nightly routines though he didn’t opt for drawing a bath this time. Finally, Priwen’s Leader kneeled before his bed taking off the faded silver cross he always wore deep under his clothes. It had been a gift from his mother for his name day when he was little. He thumbed it as he prayed for the strength and the foresight to get to the bottom of this increase in leech activity, and to put a stop to it before it got worse. After he was finished, he got into bed and drifted off into unfettered sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love other languages so much that I will probably try to pepper in some here and there. I will try to always add it in the notes and have the right usage, but if anyone notices an error please let me know!
> 
> zhena/жена – wife  
> da/да – yes
> 
> 50 paces = 125 feet/38.1 meters


	3. Newborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one because I felt there wasn't a lot of options for breaking up the intro to the game pacing wise. I also adore the dialogue in the game so there will be a bunch of that going forward in Jonathan's portions. :)

Jonathan came to consciousness with an overwhelming, thirst. It was an all-consuming agony that left him dazed, and bereft of logical thought. He tried to take in his surroundings which was just another torture itself as he became aware that he was encased in a pile of decaying corpses and bones. The scent of decay and burning was cloying as he tried to scramble and crawl his way out.

It felt like it had taken an excruciatingly long time for him to get out of the pit. When he was, he found the world awash in a sea of black and gray. The doctor tried to clear his eyes as he noticed a glowing red light in the distance. It shone out vibrantly as the only color he could see. It was pulsing hypnotically and with every beat he felt it pounding in his skull.

**_He was thirsty, so very thirsty._ **

As he shambled his way towards the light, the painful need to drink only increased. He didn’t understand what was going on. Every fiber of his being screamed at him that he needed to quench his craving, to wet his throat. The pulsating ebb and flow of the red glow spiderwebbed beautifully out from the center of the object in front of him. He recached it just as the need to drink crescendoed. He almost fell into it as he suddenly felt weakness overtake him.

Vaguely he thought he heard someone or something talking as if muffled by distance or separated by walls. It didn’t matter though because all he could think about was tantalizing scent of what was in his arms now; it drowned out all other thoughts. Something within him demanded that he take this delicious red object. With a sudden rush of strength, he bit down and was rewarded with the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted. He got lost in the act of drinking and pulling the mouthwatering fluid into his mouth.

All too soon, thoughts trickled in like wisps of smoke on the breeze. The agony he had felt since waking was easing. Then at long last, the feeling quenching that damnable thirst had abated. More rational thoughts came through to Jonathan as the world shifted and cleared.

To his horror he looked down at his sweet sister Mary, as she struggled to breathe from the trauma. Her words, _“Oh Jonathan, my sweet brother… what have you done?”_ were but an echo to his ears.

_“No, no, no….”_ he thought. The doctor tried to think logically. Apply pressure. Stymie the flow of blood. He ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt. Mary was struggling to draw breath, every gasp sending more blood out of her right external carotid artery. It was making him dizzy but he tried to stop it, to save his sister _. “Oh no, please hold on Mary!”_ Mary just looked up at him with cloudy eyes. _“Mary, no! Stay with me, no!”_ he wailed. She gave a small weak smile as she drew her last breath and her eyes glassed over. He drew her close to his chest and clasped her tightly to him. He rocked back and forth as he cradled her, feeling so utterly lost in the moment. What was this horrible nightmare? Yes, that must be what this was. _“There is no way this was reality,”_ he said aloud. He just needed to wake up that was all.

Reid heard a voice call out, _“You’ve done killed her, you beast!”_

_“No, please let me explain.”_ At that moment a bullet ripped through his shoulder wrenching him back but not waking him up from what he only could hope was a nightmare. He desperately looked around and saw the only option was to jump off the edge of platform he was on.

What followed was a mad dash through the streets and alleys trying to avoid what looked like an increasing number of people who were after him. He occasionally called out to not shoot and that he meant no harm, but that did not dissuade them from firing on him at every opportunity. At some point he had found a used machete sticking out of a very abnormal looking corpse. With no time to consider it he continued on the only path before him.

Very soon he had, had to defend himself against these people. He came out somewhere near the foundries by the docks. It pained him to have to take out the men he encountered. All he had ever wanted to do was to heal and help others! None of it made any sense. Jonathan made his way to the far side of the metalworks. He opened a door and was assaulted by one of the men. The man had called him leech. As they struggled, Jonathan felt this burning pain in his arm and across his exposed face. It seared through his nerve endings causing him to cry out. _“What in God’s…”_

Reid eventually managed to shove out of the man’s grip and stumbled in the opposite direction he had shoved the person. It felt like he had been burnt to the bone. Taking stock of himself after securing the door of another warehouse, he looked down at his arm. He could have sworn he smelt and saw burning flesh just a moment ago, but as he examined his arm, he saw nothing except pale dirt marred skin.

_“I have to get out of here. I need to find shelter, find somewhere to hide.”_ As he made his way down an alley, he came across someone wielding a crossbow. They were using flame tipped bolts! What in the world was going on in London, that allowed thugs to patrol using flaming crossbow bolts? He reluctantly finished off the crossbowman and spied a door to what appeared to be abandoned house.

He entered and barricaded the door with a bookshelf before searching the ground floor finding what appeared to be a deceased female. Her facial features however did not appear normal. Her teeth for one were all jagged and pointed and the surrounding flesh of her face and arms were bulging and lumpy. He picked up a watch that was lying near her body and made his way up to the first floor.

He came across a cracked mirror and a leaned in to inspect himself for the first time. He was covered in great quantity blood. Most of it was on and around his neck, and where he had been shot. Why hadn’t he felt any more pain, or bleeding? Surly the adrenaline had worn off and he should have at least been feeling the effects of being shot; unless he was in some form of shock. Still looking in the mirror, he also spotted for the first time the blood around his mouth. That didn’t seem right. He didn’t remember coughing up any blood.

His thoughts drifted back to his sister as he touched his mouth. _“What have I done.? What happed to me, I remember… I remember being attacked? Someone, no, something did this to me.”_

Turning he observed a man slumped over an armchair with blood all around him and what looked like a bullet hole in his right temple. He found the offending revolver still clasped in the poor man’s hand, likely held together when rigor mortis had set in. Based on that Reid concluded that he had only been dead for a few hours at most. Jonathan took the revolver and also a nearby empty syringe pocketing them both. Thinking on the past hour he reminisced on having to shoot to defend himself.

It never got easy, shooting his gun. Even in defense of him and his men on the frontlines. He had told others under his command that killing was a hell of a lot easier than healing, but that had been for their wellbeing. Always outwardly calm even in the face of adversity, Captain Reid had tried to keep as many of his men safe and alive through the war. Whether by his skill as a physician or by his soothing baritone, he wielded everything at his disposal with a balanced hand. Many owed their lives to him.

Jonathan went over and sat on the bed. He shook and buried his head in his hands in disbelief at his current situation, as he was hit with the rebound of all the emotions he had experienced since waking up. None of this whole night had made any sense, _“none of it at all,”_ he said despairingly. The distress and grief consumed him as he laid down upon the moldy and decaying mattress. He pulled out the revolver and cocked the hammer back before placing the barrel to his chest right over his heart and near his left lung.

_“Rational thinking, only,”_ he said and pulled the trigger…

_A few hours later_

Jonathan gasped as he awoke. Rising from the bed he realized he still saw the rundown room of the abandoned house still. This was madness. He had hoped to wake up from this bizarre twisted nightmare. Instead he felt around where he knew for sure he had shot himself. No bullet wound. There was an entry hole in his shirt, so no mistaking that. The shirt was also completely stained with blood on the front and it had soaked into the bedspread beneath him. He saw a hole in the bedspread where the bullet probably lodged after it left his body. Grimly he got up and thought about what his next step should be. _“I’m still at the docks as far as I know, I’ll make my way to a pub or somewhere close by to get my bearings. Maybe I can track down who did this to me. Get them to explain.”_

Resolved he made his way down to ground level as he heard voices outside the dilapidated hovel. It was those men from earlier! They were shouting at each other and trying to force their way in. He rushed through the building trying to assess any other possible exits. The only viable one looked to be through a door but he’d have to find a way to navigate the collapsed stairwell and other debris.

The men burst through the door! Reid was out of time. He felt this tugging pull in the center of his being as he franticly looked to get to the next floor across the way. Releasing a breath, the tugging snapped and he felt weightlessness before suddenly staring at the doorway that had just been above him mere seconds ago.

He hazarded a quick look back before dashing through the door and closing it. A wave of nausea hit him not long after, causing his head to spin. He made his way through the building and picked up a wooden stake off the corpse of someone on the floor. Heading out Jonathan noticed that he was still in Southwark. Maybe he could make his way to the West End, towards home he thought sadly.

The doctor was quickly accosted by more of the thugs that had been hunting him. The first he had tried to stun with the butt of the stake so he could knock him out, but when a rapid surge in thirst hit him, he lost control temporarily. Jonathan bit down and sucked at the man’s neck. Relief poured into his body with the infusion of new blood to his system. He felt invigorated and euphoric. This time he was conscious of the fact that he was indeed, drinking human blood. But he didn’t have time to stop and fully process the ramifications as he fought a group of them just a short drop away. He was able to dash around with ease, although he had missed judged at one point and had taken a bullet to his thigh. He felt it lodge next to the bone but it didn’t stop him from grabbing a hold and taking a quick bite out of the shooter.

He tried his best to leave them alive. He made sure the ones that still lived were out cold before leaving the area up the stairs that lead to a gangway across the Thames. From above the air flowed through the open walkway. It felt freeing in a way Jonathan that hadn’t felt these past few years. When he came to a broken impassible section of the causeway, he felt the pull and jumped across the steel beams leaving a billowing trail of shadows behind him. He felt in control of the movement now, the shadow jumping. It felt good.

Jonathan heard the sound of scurrying on the ground near him. Looking down he noticed rats darting around under his feet. A twinge of hunger blanketed his world in gray again. He could see their bodies full of red liquid. His jaw ached as his thirst reemerged. He explored the painful feeling in his mouth for a moment with his tongue and startled when he felt his teeth misshapen. He winced as he nicked his tongue, which prompted him to explore it with his hand. Those weren’t teeth they were fangs, a set of four to be precise. Did they extend because of his growing thirst he wondered? Glancing back down Reid bent and snatched one of the rats up and bit into its abdomen. It tasted… bland. It lessened the pain of hunger gnawing at him but it tasted as unappealing as a thin lukewarm porridge without any topping. As appalling as the taste was, he drained all the nearby rats wiping his mouth after.

Reaching the other side of the river Reid made his way to street level coming out along the river he spotted a body lying on a wooden pallet. Inspecting the deceased man, he noticed a mutilated throat and a great deal of spilt blood. The smell of it was so strong he thought, _“I can follow this blood trail and maybe find out who made me this way.”_

Following the vibrant glow of red scattered across the streets Jonathan noticed a profound lack of people out at this time of night. Surely the streets wouldn’t be this empty even at this hour. Up ahead the trail culminated in one spot before darting up to a balcony of what looked to be a tenement building. Stepping through the shadows he made he way across the balcony to a door marked as quarantined. Finding it unlocked the doctor made his way inside. Another body dried of blood lay in the middle of the flat. Checking it over he saw that the stairwell to the ground floor was blocked with furniture and debris.

There didn’t look to be anything else of note in here, although there was a bed and a workbench on the far wall. Finished with his search Jonathan went back outside to the balcony to try and pickup on the trail again. Looking down he saw more blood in relief amongst the moonlit cobblestone. There was a pool of it directly ahead, but he spotted shoeprints leading away from it. They led right into the open doorway of what looked to be a tavern.

Without thinking about his current condition, he darted down on a cloud of shadow and walked into the bar. The stench of booze was strong enough to distract him briefly from the pull of the inhabitants’ blood. Spying only three people he glanced about, contemplating on who to approach. It probably wouldn’t do him any good to talk to a blatantly inebriated man swaying next to the bar with a mug in his hand. Nor did he think the only barmaid would want to talk to him, she kept glancing his direction a nervous look in her eyes. He blanched thinking about what he must look like to others in his current state. That left the barkeep who had the look of a man who had seen it all.

Walking up he called out to the man behind the bar Jonathan started, _“Excuse me sir…”_

_“My God, sir, you look like Jonah’s whale just spat you out of hell! Can I get you a drink?”_ the barkeep exclaimed interrupting the doctor.

_“No, thank you. I’m not. Not thirsty.”_ Jonathan replied tentatively. 

_“Well I’m Tom, and you better pull up a chair it’s going to be a long night.”_

Shifting his weight Reid asked, _“Why do you say that?”_

_“It’s all the murders that have been going on in these parts. People afraid to be out at night, those that do, usually end up ‘ere.”_

_“And the police are doing nothing about it?”_ the doctor said with dismay.

_“It’s the docks, no copper cares about who lives or dies out ‘ere. We have to look after our own,”_ the man behind the bar said with derision.

_“And you do that by staying open at night?”_

_“Aye sir, figured people might need a place to rest in these dark times that’s not out in the dodgy streets.”_

_“And where exactly are we?”_ the doctor inquired looking around the space before turning back to Tom.

_“Well you’re at my bar sir, the Turquoise Turtle on the docks just off of Old Gravel Lane”_

Jonathan probed further, _“I was looking for someone who might have passed through here recently. Have you seen anyone else tonight?”_

_“The only other stranger I’ve seen went right up to his room without a word.”_

_“Has he been here long?”_

_“For a few days now,”_ Tom said tilting his head a little.

_“May I speak with him?”_

_“Sure but no funny business you ‘ear, up the stairs first door on the right.”_

Nodding, Dr. Reid bid the man farewell before making his way up the staircase, pausing a brief moment to give the barmaid a small smile to hopefully put her at ease. Approaching the door Jonathan heard what looked to be a man and a woman talking about a pressing matter. It shocked the good doctor to hear them discuss the killer in almost the same sentence as using the word vampire. It was absurd. All too soon the woman broke off the conversation as if she could tell Jonathan was at the door. There was a rustling sound before the man called out for him to enter.

Stepping through the door Jonathan heard the man call out, _“Slowly, vampire! Who are you?”_ as the man raised something in his hand that incapacitated the doctor with an excruciating, blinding pain.

Struggling just to speak, Jonathan gasped out, _“I mean you no harm. Please I need a word, with anybody.”_

The man backed away and sat down before lowering the detestable object onto the desk between them. Glancing down quickly Reid thought, _“That’s a cross, what in the world….”_

But before he could ponder why a holy object had impaired him so, the man gestured to the chair in front of him and spoke, _“I might be willing to lend you my ear.”_ Glaring and panting heavily, Reid made his way over to the chair, almost collapsing into the seat when he reached it. _“Who might you be,”_ asked the gentleman.

_“I’m not sure that I know anymore”_

_“Well let me ask you this, why have you graced me with your presence looking like you might keel over at any minute?”_

With a withering look Jonathan spoke, _“You did just assault me with, a holy object.”_ Before the mustached man could speak, he continued, _“Someone or something is out there attacking and killing people. They have bite wounds to their necks, and appear to be drained of blood.”_

_“The calling card of a vampire, like you…”_

_“You can’t be serious, I can’t be a vampire, that’s preposterous.”_

_“Sir, trust me this is no trick, you are most certainly a vampire.”_

Shaking his head in disbelief Jonathan said, _“Then who or what are you?”_ The question of who that woman he heard earlier was left unsaid.

_“Dr. Edgar Swansea of the Brotherhood of Saint Paul. I’m conducting an investigation into the very murders you have described.”_

_“Then help me find the perpetrator, the scent of fresh blood lead me to this pub. This vampire must have been here recently.”_

_“Ah that is why you sought me out. You thought I was the one who attacked you yes? Let me ask you one last thing, what will you do if you find this killer?”_

A low rumble that resembled a growl escaped Jonathan’s chest as he stood up and said, _“I’ll end him!”_ Biting off his words Dr. Reid made haste to the door, not wanting to have his back to the man for longer than he had to. This man had been cordial but he had only just met him. And being assaulted by a cross did not leave him with a good first impression of the man. Coming down the stairs he decided to ask around more about if anyone else had come through this night. He had a sneaking suspicion there was more going on than he originally thought. If the tavern owner wouldn’t speak maybe he should try the barmaid after all.

Making his way over slowly trying to appear non-threatening he said _,_ _“Good evening miss I just spoke with the man upstairs but he was not the one I was hoping to find, I was wondering if there was anyone else that came in tonight?”_

_“What do you mean?”_ she replied wearily.

_“I suspect there was someone else here tonight besides Dr. Swansea. For some reason Tom doesn’t want to talk to me about it.”_

_“If Tom said you were only other visitor tonight then I can’t tell you anything else, I’m just the barmaid.”_

_“I can feel your fear madam, what’s going on that has you so distraught?”_

Sighing she finally replied, _“It’s William Bishop. He came in here looking like he was itching to pick a fight with someone.”_

Noticing more than apprehension about a possible bar fight he asked, _“What’s wrong did he look ill or something?”_

_“He looked like a dead man walking, sores on his face and hands. I scrubbed everything he touched twice; I did.”_

_“Any other symptoms?”_

_“He was drunk as usual, but his eyes looked horrible, both bloodshot and diseased. He was being belligerent and crying out. It was awful. He used to be a sailor, until he fell on hard times. Had a job over at the canning factory before he was let go. Always seemed a good sort back then. Never a violent bloke, until now.”_

_“Why hide this from me?”_

_“Will used to be mates with Tom, even offered a job to him after he got fired. Tom is a loyal friend.”_

_“I see, well thank you miss…”_

_“Sabrina,”_ she said.

Nodding Reid finished, _“I appreciate your honesty, Sabrina.”_ With that piece of information the doctor had went back to Tom to question him about William. The man had been hesitant to say anything until the doctor mentioned Bishop by name. Tom hadn’t given him much to go on, but he had told Jonathan that he could check his boat over by the north pier. The bartender had also stated he was tall bastard and had a bad rash, which corroborated Sabrina’s account of the man looking sickly. Thanking Tom, Reid left the pub in search of the boat or the man he was looking for.

It didn’t take long to locate the boat even with the stench of the Thames in the air. There was a body slumped over the edge of the small craft. Jonathan could smell the tantalizing scent of freshly spilt blood. The body was still warm he observed, he must have just been drained. This victim looked like the thugs that had chased him off when he had woken up to the nightmare that was his current life. He had been armed and had wounds indicating he had tried to defend himself. Glancing around for any other clues he spotted several empty gin bottles and, a note that had been lying on top of the center thwart. It had a strange sort of symbol on the cover of it.

Turning it over he read what looked like orders for patrols at the docks dated October 30th. It mentioned the deaths in the area and said a leech was responsible. It also contained a warning notice that the vampire was extremely violent and to not engage it without the utmost caution. It further detailed protocols for clearing the area prioritizing searching vacant or derelict buildings. These must be orders for the ruffians that had dogged his steps after he had awoken in the mass grave. The orders came from a G. McCullum, perhaps he was a commander or other superior for these professional vampire hunters he thought.

Jonathan pocketed the note as he turned and spotted more blood on a barge across the waterway. Following the blood trail leading into the warehouse, Jon spotted a hunter hunched over what looked to be a supply crate. A sudden spike of hunger urged the doctor to attack the man before him. Instead he snuck up behind the man and knocked him out quietly. He then searched the crate to find ammunition that was compatible with the revolver he had. Taking as much as he could load and reasonably carry, he made his way forward. It was like he was back on the front line again he thought grimly.

Reid found that similar to the pull of shadows that he had somewhat mastered for dashing and jumping, could also be used to envelope him and hid him from watchful eyes. He did not truly wish to harm any of these hunters so he used this new ability to pass around the edges of their perception. He had noticed another communique as he went to exit the inhabited warehouse. He picked up the dispatch and continued on only reading it once he made it to another condemned two story flat.

Reading the information, he discovered that the hunters had been adapting new tactics learned from the recent war. It appeared that they had recently started using chemical and other forms of new technology. Most worrying were the mentions of white phosphorus, and flamethrowers. Both could cause extensive burns and that, mixed with ultraviolet light, meant that he and other vampires must be particularly vulnerable to burn damage. The document also gave a name to this group, the Guard of Priwen. It was signed by Geoffrey McCullum who was not just a commander, but the leader of Priwen himself.

_“I must not lose track of my task, I must still find William,”_ Jon said aloud as he made his way back out and across a small bridge to where he spotted another warehouse. When he reached the building, he was overwhelmed by the place reeking of fresh blood. It was so strong it was making his head spin, vision going unfocused, hunger rising. There were bones and viscera scattered everywhere. This was the markings of a depraved monster. Was this who attacked him and made him, he wondered.

He opened the door to more grisly horrors as he heard a man speaking with what appeared to be William Bishop. It looked like William was in the midst of attacking the poor man so the doctor rushed to engage the creature. And Bishop had indeed become a monster. Grotesque was his countenance, sores marring his skin and flesh sloughing off. Patches of his hair were gone. His eyes were milky white, and yet glowed in the dim light of the place. What was once a man rushed him with a similar speed to Jonathan’s own. What followed was a rough fight as the doctor didn’t want William to have a chance at break his skin. All the signs pointed to a diseased individual and Dr. Reid did not yet know if he could be infected. Better safe than sorry he thought as he tried to keep his distance, firing off a few of rounds before realizing just how hard it was to shoot something moving that fast. He eventually gave up and resorted to using the machete and his own claws despite wanting to keep his distance.

With the last swipe of his claws he watched William’s corpse fall to the ground. The doctor noticed that it appeared that the blood at least was still appealing to him as his jaw ached with the thought of another meal. He would need to investigate that thought further.

Hearing the fallen man groaning and muttering to himself brought the doctor back into the mindset of his battlefield days. He rushed over to assess his patient. He tried to speak with the man but it appeared that he had been stricken with shock.

A screech rang out behind him and as Jonathan turned to face Bishop again, a woman in dark clothing stabbed a wooden beam strait though William’s heart. She had then lectured him about how skals were as resistant to damage as they were. He had asked her who she was and what she meant by skals. The woman had only chucked and called him a newborn. It was then that he had noticed she was the voice he had heard talking to Dr. Swansea at the bar.

_“Are you like me? Can you help me?”_ he asked.

She smiled and said _, “I believe sir, I already have.”_ Then she turned and used the shadows to dash away from the warehouse.

Turning back around Reid saw Swansea approaching in a small boat. Looking down the doctor picked up the man and made his way over to the ship. The doctors situated the patient in a sitting position aboard the boat despite the man protesting needing to go to hospital. Edgar then said to him, _“You had best come as well, the sun is soon to rise and you’ll need a place to rest.”_

_“Just a moment,”_ he told Swansea, _“I believe I could learn something about my affliction if I could figure out what happened to William.”_ Jonathan made his way back to the skal’s corpse and filled the syringe of blood. This had surely not been his maker. Perhaps it was a subset or species of vampire, he would need to find somewhere to study the sample. Decision made he climbed aboard the other doctor’s vessel.

_“Where are we headed?”_ Jonathan asked Swansea.

_“Pembroke Hospital just across the canal. We should have a bed for poor Mr. Hampton. Pembroke hospital is the last bastion between London and the epidemic. The east end has been decimated by the flu while the war still rages on.”_

_“Yes, I just returned from France to help with the outbreak of influenza and to care for my mother before this mess changed everything.”_

_“I am the administrator of Pembroke Hospital, welcome to the front lines of the plague.”_

_“I thought you were here in service to your Brotherhood…”_ Reid questioned.

_“Yes, while I may be a member of the Brotherhood of Saint Paul’s Stole, I am foremost a physician much like yourself, Dr. Reid.”_ Swansea finished was a knowing look.

Startled Jonathan replied _“How... how do you know who I am?”_

_“Doctor Reid world renowned blood specialist and physician. When you took William’s blood sample, I was certain. Fortuitous I am indeed.”_

In disbelief Reid asked, _“Have we met?”_

_“I attended several of your seminars before the war and deeply admire your research. To think the world’s leading expert on blood transfusions returning to London a vampire,”_ Edgar mused.

_“That word again from a so-called scientist.”_

_“I know it’s a lot to take in but when science and the surreal collide, the Brotherhood has been there to document and uncover the facts hidden under the myths. There is so much for you to learn”_

_“Of that you are correct sir.”_

Edgar had then offered him a position as a physician at the Pembroke. It had been jarring but Jonathan had little options. It was for the nightshift so he would not have to explain not being out in daylight. But he had meant to return home to his family to care for his mother he thought sadly. That was before he had contracted vampirism though, and… Mary. He accepted the offer and thanked Swansea for having the foresight to bring a change of clothes with him.

Even with this compassionate offer a small part in the back of Reid’s mind felt something about this had been off, almost too perfect. Shaking it off thinking it was just the stress of the night getting to him Jonathan cleaned up and changed his clothing as they pulled up to a docking point near the hospital.

A woman in a bloodstained apron called out for Swansea fretting over the resignation of a nurse and the loss of a couple of patients earlier that evening. Swansea had taken it in stride both placating the nurse by saying he’d make a new rota in the morning as well as requesting her help in securing Hampton a bed.

Not wanting to intrude on their conversation, he made his way down the small path until he came across two men fighting. One of them stabbed the other with a knife before being killed himself and thrown into the water.

The irresistible scent forced all color from his vision, painting his world in the same red as that precious liquid that was being wasted on the ground. A voice called out to the doctor telling him to drink at the river before him and dry it all. It was taking every shred of his control to make his way over to the still living man without attacking him. The man said his name was Clay Cox and he was being a right bastard to the doctor, but as he was currently bleeding heavily from a stab wound, so Reid tried not to hold it against him.

_“Come with me,”_ the doctor had said in an enthralling tone.

As he guided Mr. Cox that voice resonating in his head again, _“Bring him into the shadows and dance with him the dance of life and death.”_

_“No, I will not take another life tonight!”_ he thought, somehow releasing the hypnotic hold he had instinctually used on Cox. He did however, continue to guide the injured man up to the hospital’s doors.

As if chastising him the voice echoed again, _“Sometimes it is wise to let his prey go, but no famished hunter can last for long.”_

Gritting his teeth, he walked Clay Cox up the stairs and into the arms of the nurse, Dorothy Crane as Swansea had mentioned earlier. She had told him that they had prepared an office for him up the stairs and on the left at the end of the hallway.

He made his way up the stairs and down the hall, noticing that the administrator was right, this had been a good place for him to conduct research. He looked around the office pleased by what he saw. It would make a decent place to rest as well he thought, much better than a coffin he chucked, or the cold wet grounds of France.

He spied the workbench in the back and decided to analyze the blood from Bishop. It was highly unstable and showed noticeable mutations but looking at another prepared slide this time of his own blood he saw that it was not a close enough analog to understand what had happened to him. As he was contemplating what to do next, he felt a bone deep lethargy come over him sapping him of any energy he had just moments ago. He was perplexed before remembering that daylight was not far away. He must be able to acutely feel the sun rising. Weakly he made his way to the cot behind the partitions before he fell into a motionless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be a slow fic simply because I go off the deep end researching random historical facts and I'm new to writing. I don't know for sure where I'm headed with this but I think I will be alternating pov's between chapters because while I love Reid, I am obsessed with Geoffrey. Also I'll try to add tags when I figure out what the heck I'm doing.
> 
> Historical tidbit: The sun set at 5:28 on November 4, 1918


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